Issue 9
December 2001
Gary Langford
Gary Langford: author of 24 books, including 9 novels & 8 books of poetry. Presently, he is co-ordinator of Creative Writing, University of Western Sydney, Australia.
waiting room
The time of skinflint thoughts
uncertain what we will do at each call
knowing the judge on the bench also withers
the bodies scars grow mutinously
we become one-eyed cats
wishing we were on the prowl
praying that this will be so
claws unsheathed to strike
each day has a chord
condemned when the sentinels are down
fog on the windowsill
white-gowned examiners
shake your fist in the moon's cold
walk from the waiting room
SNAKE HISTORY
If Snake ever comes for you, kill it,
have no mercy, beat the skin-drum heavy.
Ignore any cries, there is no choice,
or you will be bemused by whining,
all this from a creature who once terrified you,
whose lips used to sneer-grab.
Cut them of, lip by lip.
Snake has many,
each one will curl to make you feel guilty,
and you will, Snake is that practiced,
that familiar, a piece of history.
In all cultures, there should be,
earth, air, fire, water and snakes.
One evening Snake will be on television,
reach between the lines and you will see
Snake is the actor of all,
or you will feel sorry for the murderer,
the one who commits vile acts and still leers.
Bury Snake, placing heavy objects over the grave,
preventing a resurface when you no longer think it will,
that, finally, you're walking up the right-hand hill.
Then it will be smiling more madly,
dressed in skin as cool as ice,
able to resist embers,
able to eat you quickly.
Even if it says your name adoringly,
kill it,
and pray the time will be longer
until Snake comes again.